On the Eve of Ragnarok
by Belladonna Lee
Summary: Scorpius/Albus. Like father, like son - Scorpius hates this phrase most of all. Unlike his father, he will do whatever it takes to get what he wants, even at the cost of his sanity and pride. A vignette about fathers, future, fate and green apple.


Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter and its characters are not mine.

A/N: Merry Christmas! Instead of a Draco/Harry fic, I offer you my first Scorpius/Albus fic.

**On the Eve of Ragnarok**

Hiding away from the sun beneath the weeping willow, Scorpius Malfoy sat against the weathered trunk, a book in his lap and a green apple in his hand. Absorbed in his reading, he had the distant expression of one lost to the world. Those cool grey eyes of his diligently followed the text on the page, yet he could not resist casting an occasional glance at the slim boy leaning against him.

The autumn air smelled of dead leaves and pomegranate, the latter of which was the shampoo flavour used by the dark-haired boy. Stiff from maintaining the same posture for too long, Scorpius nevertheless dared not move lest he wake the other boy, who had stayed up for the better half of the night studying with him. Pressing his cheek against those wiry raven locks, Scorpius listened to his friend's quiet breathing and returned to his reading.

In the minds of many, Albus Potter should not be his friend, least of all something beyond the measure of friendship. Given their background, this tale of theirs could have easily transformed into a modern reincarnation of _Romeo and Juliet_, even though this story would not end in a lover's suicide.

Like father, like son - Scorpius hated this phrase most of all. However much he respected the head of the family, he refused to believe he had inherited his weakness for dark hair and green eyes from his father. Being branded as his father's shadow by the world was akin to receiving a death sentence; it was as if the world dictated that he must stumble along the same thorny path his sire once trod. After letting out a sigh, Scorpius chomped down on the apple as if he held a grudge against the fruit.

"Can I have a bite?" came the question from the boy who was supposed to be asleep.

When Scorpius turned his head, he found Albus smiling wryly at him. Forest green eyes glowed with a brilliance no gem of this world could emulate, a hue that was, according to legend, not unlike the unearthly light of the Killing curse. If those eyes could kill, Scorpius would not mind dying.

"You mean the apple or me?" Scorpius put on his innocent face and joked. When Albus sent him a withering glare, he conceded as boys being scolded by their favourite teacher would and offered the half-eaten apple to his friend.

"What are you reading?" Albus leant forward and squinted at the small text clustered on the page like an army of ants. "It's not in English. French?"

"It's a book on the history of bondage and other naughty games and devices," Scorpius drawled lazily, not once taking his silver eyes off the gullible Gryffindor, whose cheeks were tinted with a blush of spring blossom. "Do you know that the Japanese consider bondage a kind of art form?"

Albus groaned. "I don't want to know." To Scorpius' amusement, he leant back against the tree, far away from the offensive book. A moment later, verdant eyes cast a searching glance at the crafty Slytherin. "Something is bothering you, isn't it?"

The wheels and cogs in Scorpius' head paused for several heartbeats. Albus had always been the perceptive one, unlike the eldest of the Potter siblings, James the prankster, whom Scorpius never liked. However easy it might be to throw in another outrageous tease, Scorpius knew it was not the time to be a flirt.

After putting the book aside, Scorpius cradled the back of his head and gazed into the distance. Beyond the swaying curtain of willow branches, Hogwarts stood like a toy castle atop a fake green hill, the sky a piece of blue bedspread and the sun a Snitch dyed white.

"My father gave me the family signet-ring," he began as casually as he could manage. "He told me that he doesn't expect me to carry on the family tradition. I am free to do what I want with my life - within reason." He paused. "It's not that I don't respect him, but I want to do something he hasn't done. Beyond that though, I haven't figured out the rest."

"Didn't you tell DeQuincy that you wanted to become a Curse-Breaker?"

"I made that up on the spot." Scorpius stretched his arms and legs, his gaze turning briefly towards the pale foliage that had enclosed him and his friend in this temporary asylum like a cocoon. "Is there something you want to do after graduating from Hogwarts?"

"Anything but an Auror," Albus immediately replied. "Having two Aurors in the family is more than enough." With that he munched on the apple, feigning nonchalance; nevertheless, a knot had wormed its way onto his brow.

The remark silenced the talkative Slytherin. However dissimilar he and Albus might be in appearance and temperament, they shared a common wish: to escape the confines of the family name and their respective sire's fate. Albus longed to be rid of the burden of his father's fame; in the same vein, Scorpius wanted to evade his father's notoriety and build his own infamy if he so desired. In each other they had found the sapling of defiance, but Scorpius did not like to think of their encounter and subsequent entanglement as fate.

Unable to resist, Scorpius smoothed out Albus' frown with his thumb, which brought a smile onto his friend's lips. "You know what?" Scorpius said. "If neither of us knows what to do, then we can open a pub somewhere. I'll wait tables and you'll work behind the counter."

Albus sent him a pointed look, half in exasperation, half in indulgence. "You just want to drink while you work." In response, Scorpius grinned sheepishly, and the young Gryffindor sighed.

When Albus handed the apple to him, Scorpius was struck by a spark of inspiration. Yielding to his impulse, he leant forward, took a bite of the apple from Albus' hand, and licked away the golden nectar dripping down his friend's palm. Sour and salty and sweet - it was the taste of the boy who could shatter his heart with four simple words, delectable, but hardly forbidden, not to Scorpius Malfoy.

"You are hopeless," Albus muttered when Scorpius at last let go of his hand. After finishing what little remained of the poor fruit, the raven-haired boy wiped his hand on Scorpius' handkerchief and transfigured the apple core into a piece of paper. "I might think about it."

As he watched those slender fingers of Albus' fold the cream-coloured paper in half, Scorpius wondered what kind of world would those hands create, what kind of existence would he lead in that world. "Why don't we get married while we are at it?" he said in half jest. "If you are willing to bear my child, I won't object."

Albus grimaced, the paper beneath his fingers beginning to take on the life and form of another creature. "I would."

"That's too bad." Scorpius did not pursue this train of half-hearted thought any further, though he could not suppress a trickle of disappointment from flowing into his heart. If Albus were to leave him behind, the cruel, egocentric side of his psyche was not above shackling the boy to him in the worst possible manner.

Pure orbs of the lushest of green cast a glance at the boy who cried wolf. A beat later, Albus worked his final spell on his paper creation and pulled. Trapped between his fingers was an origami crane, those thin pale wings of which were spread as if struggling to fly. "It's good enough for me that you are here." With that he placed the token of good luck onto Scorpius' palm.

Surprised, Scorpius raised his head and stared at the boy whose face had taken on the hue of the sunset sky. It occurred to him that he could never fall for another as he had fallen for Albus Potter, would never meet another person quite like Albus Potter.

The Malfoy sire had kept close in the treasure box of his heart an amber of bygone years, but Scorpius, greedy and selfish to a fault, wanted far more than mere memories. Pride and rationality had been the crimes his father was guilty of; he would not make the same mistake, not when his father had given him a fair warning. If there was something he wants, he would use whatever means to seize it, even at the cost of his pride and sanity.

Fate was nothing more than rationalization after the fact, an excuse to explain away why, out of a thousand and one what-ifs, only one possibility was realised. Therefore, he would compose his own fate and the ending to this tale of theirs.

Not waiting for Scorpius' response, Albus got up and brushed his trousers, though he could not quite conceal his bashful expression. "Let's go back. I'm hungry." And Scorpius, holding the reincarnation of the green apple to his lips, smiled the warmest of smiles and followed his friend into the world built upon the corpse of the old.

* * *

><p><em>Finis.<em>

A/N: Scorpius is something of a flirt in possession of an arrogance characterized by his youth; Albus, on the other hand, is more emotionally mature, if easily embarrassed. I try to depict their dynamic as different from the ways I portray the dynamic between Draco and Harry. Thank you very much for reading!


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